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(no subject) [Apr. 25th, 2011|12:05 am]
This weekend has been good for me, I think. For one thing, I think things with Seth are exactly how I want them to be now, and that I've got enough distance to not be weird about it anymore. Awkward moments on Friday night aside, we're cool and we can hang out or not, and I don't really expect anything more from him than a good conversation when we're both around the house, which is a good place to be.
I think it just takes time to tear down the castles I build for myself before I've even laid a good foundation - it's hard not to trip forward a beautiful present moment into what could be, and even harder when you trip face first into a reality that isn't like the one you'd imagined. Still, it was not a weakness to have liked him, to have perhaps wanted something more, to take a little time in processing not getting what I wanted. And because of this I know now for sure that I'm actually ready to start investing in someone new, that half of my heart and attention isn't caught in a small farming town in California, holding on to impossibility. I am where I should be, and I'm ready for something new, but also okay if it's not in the cards right now. I know that right now I want someone who will challenge me and teach me things and make me think. I am ready for my next relationship to be an adventure, an experience of joy and novelty.

I've been doing a lot of soul searching this weekend, and that has lead to a lot of reflection on forgiveness and compassion, two things I'm working on, particularly in regards to myself. Part of me seems to think that if I'm not constantly vigilant, reminding myself of all the ways in which I could or have fucked up then everything will go to hell. This just isn't true. I can learn from my mistakes without having to torture myself with recriminations and what-if's. Reflection is positive, obsessing isn't - it only holds me back. Giving in to the knowledge that I'm not perfect is so much easier than pushing back against it, and this relaxing won't mean that I won't strive for excellence, it'll just mean that I'm healthier about it. The things I care about will still be there, and as I told Audrey the other night, people love us for who we are, not what we do, and if they don't they're not worth it. Philosophy paper now.
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(no subject) [Aug. 29th, 2010|12:05 pm]
I want to have had an extraordinarily fun weekend - I keep trying to convince myself that I did, but everything is overshadowed with regret. Regret for overreacting, regret for making questionable choices, regret for not knowing my own mind.

I want to think about how much fun I had hanging out and drinking with my friends for my 19th, but instead I keep thinking of my own private drama, of all the ways I was wrong, even though sins have been forgiven on both sides and now we're supposed to be able to go back to normal. I guess I'm just worried about how things are changing, worried that was once effortless will become another thing for me to obsess over and analyze. I just need a little bit of proof that it's not true, that things will be fine and normal again soon.

And then there was last night, where I danced and talked with this guy for a few hours. I was flattered by his attention, charmed by his good looks. When he tried to kiss me I turned away - I just don't kiss random guys at parties, no matter how long we've been dancing. At the end of the night he walked me home and I gave him my number when he asked, and I've been second guessing myself ever since. And all of this coming on the heels of what happened on Friday - I'm worried about what this will do to my relationship with one of the most important people in my life. I don't ever want to feel like I have to hide things from him, but I also am just not ready for another big feelings talk, for any more drama.

I know that these growing pains are normal - we're moving on, it has to happen. But still, I'm just so scared of losing him, of him realizing that I'm too much work, or that I cause him too much pain. I don't want this to be so hard. I want to be able to make choices that I'm proud of, so I don't have to agonize over things that I can't change. I guess it all comes down to wanting to be perfect, but instead being human.

This too shall pass, I just hope that our friendship doesn't pass with it. I have to trust that it won't.
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(no subject) [May. 16th, 2010|12:26 pm]
I never envisioned this.

Five weeks ago I did not think of him as anything more than my Big - one of my best friends who I just liked to cuddle with. We had conversations about how we were glad that we never dated. Four weeks ago our relationship shifted - temporarily, we said, just this once. Three weeks ago we decided to stop holding ourselves back. Two weeks ago we thought of ourselves as cute, but not really together-together. A week and a half ago we started to realize just how serious this was becoming. A week ago it hit us just how painful it would be to leave. Yesterday we spent 24 straight hours together and shared a toothbrush without it being weird.

Our relationship has been condensed - shortened but intensified. We've seen each other every day for the past three weeks and it hasn't felt forced - we've just become part of each other's daily routine. We're trying to take advantage of what little time we have left - less than 48 hours now.

I'm trying to believe myself when I tell other people that it will be okay, that this is just how it goes sometimes.
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Re: Last Monday [Apr. 12th, 2010|02:09 pm]
Last Monday was an interesting day, significant several ways. It is somewhat significant (or at least significant to my last entry) in that it was the last day that I saw T, who has apparently disappeared from my life. This is a bit strange to me, but that's just how these things go I guess.

Much more significant was the conversation I had with T about grudges that led me to a very pleasant realization. While we were talking about grudges I brought up Jacob as an example of the type of grudge that I hold, but later, as I sat studying under a statue on the main mall, I realized that I'm actually (finally) over the whole experience and that my bitterness and anger has all but disappeared. It was weird to actually take stock and realize that a set of emotions that had been constant for over a year and a half had just vanished, but I can't say that I'm complaining.

I feel liberated. Sometimes these things do take time.
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(no subject) [Mar. 30th, 2010|10:32 pm]

I spoke French for an hour today, the longest I've done so for quite some time, and I feel like part of me has been reawakened. I'm different when I speak French, different in a way that I like. Something about the vowel sounds at the back of my mouth, the way I purse my lips, the different tone of my voice me transforme into quelq'un qui est différente. Je ne suis pas si différente que ça, non, mais il y a des chose subtiles qui change. Speaking in French reminds me of the girl that I was there, makes me appreciate how she has transformed into the girl that I am now. It's hard to put the differences into words, but something in me is fulfilled when the dark chocolate sounds that make up the language curl at the back of my throat, caress my tongue, and finally tumble from my lips.

Just the act of speaking French long enough de me réhabituer à parler flips the bilingual switch somewhere in the back of my brain and has me thinking in the jumble of franglais that characterizes my journal in the later months, that was my only way of thinking back then. And now il y a de phrases qui appear dans ma tête en français avant que l'anglais, something that I'm sure won't last for too long, but that I'm enjoying now.

In conclusion: French needs to become a significant part of my life again.
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in search of a 5 by 8 red moleskine [Jan. 28th, 2010|02:52 pm]
I finished my journal, the black beat up one, on the way back to school, nearly two and a half years after I started it. There was something right about finishing it much the same way I began it: on a plane carrying me away from my home.

So much has happened since then, and I have grown so much that it's sometimes hard to believe. And yet I'm still the same person, really, just a bit more refined, more confident, and, overall, happier.

And now, I miss having a paper journal like none other. I know what I want but I haven't been able to find it, and I'm not willing to settle. Computer is perfect for some things, like those headlong rushes of infatuation with a new idea, a new experience. But for rainy days drinking weak coffee there is nothing better than ink on paper, letters looping and running together, tumbling out, handwriting saying something about your surroundings, your mood.

Today has been, on the whole, rather disappointing. Nothing bad, per say, just a bit of a let down. Also, hooray for awkward moments. And by hooray, I mean ugh. I think I need to just stop being so impatient with everything, but with the cute boy in Middle Eastern History in particular.

I am a product of the now generation, very much so. I just want things to happen now, to know things, to push ahead to what could be. I want to learn to slow down, to get to know someone week by week without pushing, without facebook and text messages and the like. Just a slow building of friendship, nothing more. I need to stop being so afraid of being understood, of being found out. There's nothing wrong, really, with someone suspecting/knowing that you are or might be interested, but I hate it. I just want...I don't know what I want.

I think I've stopped being interested in Kevin, now that he has become more real to me, which is really probably for the best. It's not a rejection of who he is, just a better understanding of how we relate to each other. I should be seeing him every week now, what with ballroom, which will be nice, because I do enjoy his company very much, except for when he makes things awkward for no reason.

On the first day of Wold Lit Professor Moore made us all check in before class got underway:
Physically I'm neutral, emotionally I'm discontent, mentally I'm restless. Or maybe reverse those last two...yes, emotionally restless, mentally discontent. This will pass, though, as all emotions do, which is something Professor Moore likes to remind us frequently. I think it would do most of good to remember that no matter how we feel, we will not always feel this way. Everything is temporary, and this too shall pass away.

I guess it's just that I'm feeling a little cut off from possibilities, after the past few days of wild imagining. I'm not quite settled into peaceful routine, not quite enthralled with all that could be. I almost wish it would start pouring right now, just so I could go out and let my skin, my hair, become soaked and chilled, watch the goosebumps prickle on my arms, feel my muscles contract as a shudder runs down my spine. This is what I want more than anything--to feel perfectly alive for as much of my existence as possible. That doesn't mean I want to be jubilant, excited, giggly all the time, but that that I just want to feel with all of me, sadness included, sometimes even preferred.

This entry is getting longer and longer, because there's just so many words inside of me-I love translating experience into description, words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs. Normally my LJ entries are more focused, crafted with my readers in mind, whereas this is more like what I would write in my journal, messy and confusing to anyone who's not me. Maybe next entry will achieve some sense of cohesion.
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I found this poem that I wrote a while ago [Dec. 5th, 2009|12:57 am]
Illusions of You

The dim light cradles me
as I ink words
along paths laid by the surgeon's blade,
temporary tattoos,
staining my secrets
onto soft skin.

Delicate nerves,
flush against my battered hipbone
under my skin while
your hands
smooth over scars
and bones
twisted and cracked,
held together by hope
and metal.

And I dream about you
almost every night, but
I'm teaching myself
not to remember
quite so vividly
my warm back pressed
against the cold white wall
with you so hot in front of me.

I'm learning to forget
those nights spent
dreaming in the darkness
on the phone.

I'm slowly erasing
the softness I found in your eyes,
and the quirk of your eyebrow
in a look trying so hard
to be sexy
it could only be funny.

I'm ripping the idea
from my mind that
you ever really cared,
that I was more
than just a body to you.

But what I still miss is
the way you always sing off-key,
the security of our long friendship,
your arm around my shoulders,
and, really,
the idea of you,
my illusions of us,
of you.
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You are my sweetest downfall [Nov. 11th, 2009|11:09 pm]
It seems as though everyone is posting tonight, so I thought I'd respond in kind.

Tonight I went to see Regina Spektor in concert, which was lovely. I reveled in her incredible voice and tried to lose myself, but never quite got there, never achieved that release I was so longing for. It's been a theme with me lately, this detachment, this feeling of separation. I don't like it.

I want to be living life fully, extravagantly, but I can't seem to stop feeling like I'm living life on one side of a glass wall. I try, I push, I tell myself I'm feeling what I wish I was feeling, but something is missing.

There are small moments of reprieve, moments when a soft, perfect emotion uncurls within my chest. That night, sitting on the cold concrete on top of the hill, drinking coffee and leaning close to you in the crisp air, staring at the lights and hearing distant music drift towards us. Small slivers of time when I'm walking alone (but never alone, really, on this big campus), listening to music, looking up at the almost New Mexico blue blue sky and the trees still adorned with green leaves make me happier, in a quiet way, than I often feel surrounded by friends. I think of you and my heart relaxes a little, allows me to feel a short glimpse of precious emotion.

I pretend to feel, and I do, distantly, but there is so much more, I know there is so much more. What is wrong with me? I feel happy, I feel sad, I feel proud, I feel discontent, but it's never quite enough, I never quite feel alive.
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Haiku from my morning shower [Aug. 28th, 2009|10:26 am]
intensely hot drip
rest of spray luke warm at best
what the fuck, shower?

in a small shower
weak and sad water pressure
it's hard to get clean
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(no subject) [Jul. 19th, 2009|03:05 pm]
I want to write but I don't know what to write.

I want to write the tug of the river's current as I clung to the rocky, sandy bottom of the Rio Grande. I want to write the continually surprising feeling of running my fingers through short hair. I want to write the heat and moisture and sweat of a Texas summer. I want to write the desperate surge of jealousy before it is quickly viciously repressed. I want to write the thrilling intensity of a new connection. I want to write the bitterness of once golden memories. I want to write the synchronized beauty of whole rooms kneeling in prayer. I want to write the brutal rush of shame and disillusionment that crackled through my mind like wildfire. I want to write the guilty simplicity of reaching out my hand in search of yours. I want to write the exhilaration of four years of potential.

I want to write all of this, but somehow lack the words.
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